


Everyday (your love is getting warmer)

by hugemind



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom!Sam, First Time, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Something Made Them Do It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-17
Updated: 2007-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-31 20:16:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hugemind/pseuds/hugemind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys hunt a kelpie, a horse of supernatural origin living in water. It takes Sam down and they find that a kelpie's bite has unreported side effects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyday (your love is getting warmer)

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless oneshot; PWP with few redeeming qualities. I'm ~~abusing~~ misusing [kelpies](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kelpie) and making someone else's property play dirty games. Oh, and this is a 'first time, something made them do it' type of fic. Title from the song [No Mercy by The Stranglers](http://www.sendspace.com/file/sqbr12). Betaed by the fabulous [](http://varkelton.livejournal.com/profile)[**varkelton**](http://varkelton.livejournal.com/) whom I stealthily roped into doing the job and who still came through. Any mistakes are mine. Originally posted to LJ on August 17, 2007.

Dean gets a little twitchy every time a job requires going near water. It's not because they don't know how to swim, --because they do and are better at it than what one might assume. It's more because, dude, whatever creatures live in water are probably better swimmers than they are. Y'know, because they _live_ in the water. The fact that it's the ocean instead of a lake only worsens the odds.

This time it's not exactly the Loch Ness monster but a damn kelpie, and with magical creatures things can go a little, or a lot, wrong sometimes. Sure enough, the kelpie appears on the beach right where it had been first sighted, but it seems to be of different opinion on the whole dying by a silver bullet part. That's how Dean ends up covering for Sam as he closes in on the creature, its black fur absorbing all the moonlight and its bridles almost alive like snakes. Sam steps into the water, and right then things starting going sideways.

The kelpie attacks Sam, knocking him off balance, and Dean can't see what exactly happens because it's so fucking dark. All he knows is that Sam is down, and the horse creature is dragging him deeper into the water. Dean's .45 --loaded with pristine silver bullets-- is trained on the horse, and as soon as Dean gets close enough, he sends half a dozen bullets into the thing's heart.

Dean knows that his little brother is somewhere under water, when he can't spot him amidst the rippling waves, and panic strikes. Diving into the water, he realizes oddly that it's good thing that he's not wearing his leather jacket, because his jeans and boots are making it hard enough to swim in the chilly water.

The kelpie's lifeless form sinks to the bottom slowly, and Dean follows it down into the depths where it disappears completely, leaving Dean alone in the empty sea. The beam of the waterproof flashlight catches only seaweed, sharp rocks and frantic silvery bubbles whirlpooling around him, and _oh god_ , he needs more oxygen.

Disoriented, Dean heads for what he hopes is the surface, tears of frustration invisible in the water. Now it's just a burning sting from the saltwater, nothing more. _Sam..._ He follows the trail of the small bubbles, lost and alone. _Bubbles go up, towards the surface... Don't they?_

He draws in a deep breath when he breaks the surface, feels the rush of air in his lungs, and the dizziness in his head subsides slowly. He's in a cave of some sort, dark beyond the light of his flashlight and echoing with his gasps. Dean's struggling to get his breathing under control before he dives again when he hears a quiet groan.

His heart in his throat, Dean yells out, "Sam?" The word echoes sharply in the cavern.

Another groan answers. The light dances around the rocks until it finds life; Dean rushes out of the water onto a small sandy beach where Sam lies. There's enough room to stand, the stone roof perhaps twelve feet high and the walls equally wide. He wonders idly how long the air in the cavern can sustain them, but the thought is soon forgotten when he leans over his brother's still body.

Sam's eyes fly open suddenly, his hand reaching towards his left shoulder, pulling Dean's gaze with it. He's practically scratching the ragged remains of his shirt off; there's a set of distinct bite marks marring the skin underneath the cotton, and a trickle of blood smudged over the edges. The second thing Dean notices are the deep scrapes on Sam's left leg, peeking ugly through the ripped jeans. _Oh fuck._ He knows they've got to sting like a bitch in the saltwater. But thankfully, there are no other visible injuries.

"Dean?" Sam's voice sounds like it's lost somewhere between this stony bubble and the world outside.

"Yeah, Sam, it's me," Dean replies, kneeling in the dry sand and smoothing his hand down Sam's good shoulder.

Sam's eyes swim for a while before they focus on him. "It hurts, Dean."

He sounds younger, not much, but the obvious pain brings out the familiar whine.

"I know, Sammy." He takes another look at the mangled leg, and carefully peels torn denim from the wounds. "It's gonna hurt bad, but we gotta get you out of here."

Sam looks confused and follows Dean's line of sight to the leg, stays quiet for a moment and whimpers. "It's not that."

"What?" Dean asks.

"That," Sam gestures absently towards the wounds, "doesn't hurt."

"Then what does?" Dean can't understand what Sam means; the remaining salt in the wounds has to burn like hell.

Sam wriggles on the ground uncomfortably, and Dean spots the line of Sam's erection under the wet jeans. _Well, that's something no one has mentioned before._ He wonders whether it's possible if everyone bitten by a kelpie is drowned before they find out what it does. At least Dean hopes that the bite is to blame, otherwise, Sam's a kinkier bastard than Dean has given him credit for.

Sam's good arm loops quickly around Dean's shoulders, pulling him down against his brother's body, fitting their hips and lips together. Sam's tongue is in Dean's mouth before he realizes what's going on.

"No, Sam, we can't," Dean breathes out in panic.

Sam's voice sounds like he's perfectly capable of reasonable thinking, which he just _can't_ be. "Why not?"

Sam keeps grinding his hips into Dean's, and fuck if it doesn't feel good. "We're- brothers." Yes, that's the excuse; the same fucking one that's remained as Dean's last line of defense, after years of guilt and denial.

"So?"

"It's- " _Wrong_ , Dean means to say, but Sam's devouring his lips again and swallows the word.

"I want you, Dean. Haven't you noticed?" Sam's mouth keeps forming the words against Dean's skin in a rapid pace, almost too rapid for Dean to tell them apart. "The way I look at you, the way I jerk off in the shower when you're in the next room."

_Christ, that_ is _wrong._

"I've stolen your shirts, Dean, 'cause they smell like you. And it drives me crazy to sit in the car with you all fuckin' day."

Sam licks Dean's neck, and Dean's only vaguely aware of his erection until Sam presses his hand against it and makes him flex into the touch.

"No, Sam. You don't want it. You... you can't want it. It's the kelpie bite, it's gotta be some sort of aphrodisiac," and fuck it for making Dean using those words. But still it sounds better than 'it's just the kelpie bite that makes you want to fuck your brother'.

Dean stops before he can wonder which one of them Sam actually wants to do the fucking, and thinks of the ways Sam has looked at him. Maybe he wrote them off to silent anger, maybe --for some reason-- he didn't ever name them. And he doesn't want to think about that either and what it might mean.

"Dean, I do want it", his brother sounds more lucid and sane than ever, voice raspy and used but doing things to Dean's insides that have got to be worse than the effect of a kelpie bite.

"I want you." Dean doesn't fight the hand stroking him through the clingy jeans. _Fuck,_ Dean realizes that he doesn't _want_ to make Sam stop.

"I feel how hard you are, Dean. You want it, don't you? You want to fuck me." The words flow out as a whisper against Dean's neck, but drown out everything else. They don't echo and that makes them more real than anything else ever could.

"Sam- ", Dean starts, but it's a weak effort, and impossibly nimble fingers open his fly and tug down the zipper.

"You want to fuck me, don't you?" And shit, that does answer Dean's earlier question of Sam's preferences.

The slow, sinful words drain the fight out of Dean; that pleading and whining in the question making Dean achingly hard.

"Yeah, Sam."

He's gonna burn in hell for this, but really, it's just one thing more in a long list of damning things, and none of them matter when Sam's fingers curl around his cock. Sam whimpers and Dean figures that it must still hurt, so he takes a deep breath and moves his palm to rest over Sam's erection. He never could watch Sam in pain.

He earns a deep, relieved moan from Sam and ventures further, unbuttoning the offending jeans and inching his hand into Sam's boxers. It's not the first time he's held another man's cock in his hands, but the feel and weight of his brother make him wish it was, so he could learn it all over again from the beginning with Sam. And that moment of realization is enough to make Dean come in his boxers.

Sam groans at the loss, but then moans at the feel of Dean jacking him off. Dean keeps the rhythm for a while, then proceeds to tug Sam's jeans and boxers off altogether, making more room for his hand. Sam groans constantly, slipping in words like _more_ , _harder_ , and _oh god, Dean_. But it doesn't help, Sam's still rock-hard and there's no sign of him sliding closer to the edge. Dean feels a little offended for not being able to take care of his brother, but there are supernatural elements involved and those always mess things up.

Sam moans quietly with new desperation. "Hurts..."

Dean decides to change the strategy. He's never given a blowjob before, but he tries to muster up the memories of how the mouths around his dick have felt. There's a lot of material to choose from. He licks a long, wet stripe up from the base of Sam's cock to the tip before closing his lips around the head. Sam bucks into his mouth but not deep enough to make him gag.

Dean presses Sam's hips down with his left hand and steadies Sam's dick with his right. He licks around the head; small, light touches alternate with long, lingering touches to find out which Sam likes better, but Sam's moans are equally loud during both. He keeps whispering Dean's name with hope and wonder. Dean twirls his tongue around the head before taking more of Sam's cock in his mouth.

The first sucks are light, becoming more aggressive, and then he's got Sam as deep as possible without having to gag.

"Dean," Sam sounds pained, the hope gone, and Dean knows that this isn't going to be enough to break the spell of the kelpie's bite.

He releases Sam's cock, receiving a loud protest, sits up and yanks off his boots before stripping himself completely. Before Sam can lift his head from the soft sand, Dean is straddling his legs.

"Dean, what- "

"Shut up, Sam. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Sam's eyes widen and clear up when Dean shifts in his lap. "Dean, no! You can't just- "

"Sorry, Sammy, but I didn't pack lube for this trip and considering your- condition," Dean takes a look at the spit and pre-come slicked cock, "this is how it's gonna be."

Dean is already lining up when Sam pushes him off, muttering curses.

Sam's words sound broken, like confessing his deepest secret. "There's a packet of lube in my jeans pocket."

Dean thinks of the implications; maybe it really is his brother's darkest secret. He hesitates for a second and leans to the side to rifle through said pockets. True enough, there's a small packet, almost like one of those free samples. Dean starts tearing the plastic but Sam snatches it away from him.

"Dean," there's seriousness in Sam's voice, "I want _you_ to fuck _me_."

The words travel through skin and vibrate in Dean's bones all the way to his cock. Somewhere between the attempted blowjob and now, he's grown hard again. Dean takes the hint, the sweet voice seducing him, and lets Sam arrange his legs, so that Dean is kneeling between the long limbs.

"I want to feel you inside me."

Dean thinks absently how he never would have guessed Sam for a talker, but he can't deny that it isn't making him hot all over again. Sam rips the packet open, slicks some of the warmed lube over Dean's fingers and plants himself closer to Dean.

"Dean, please, it hurts. Just do it. I want it." Sam pleads and through it all Dean can see Sam's lust-darkened eyes glinting in the flashlight-lit cave.

_Jesus, who the hell could ever refuse Sam?_

Dean lifts Sam's ass over his legs, and slowly pushes a finger in. Sam gasps in air like a drowning man, and Dean knows that this is working. It has to be like this, and he's lost in the filth falling from Sam's lips. "Dean... fuck."

Dean adds another finger, picking up the pace, scissoring them gently, and more slow, breathy words roll over him. "Just.. yeah."

He pushes the two fingers all the way in, and Sam's body draws taut like a bowstring. "More.. c'mon, Dean. More."

Dean grabs the packet of lube lying forgotten in Sam's hand and coats his fingers again. He's never done this before, but he's fairly certain that neither has Sam and that he needs to be thorough. Dean pushes three fingers in and leaves Sam gasping.

Dean's right hand is jacking his own cock now, because the sight of a wanton and writhing Sam is too much, and he just wants to slide home. Sam seems to have noticed it somehow, because he lifts himself up on his elbows and then reaches for Dean. The words in his ear make Dean shiver with need.

"I want you to take me now, Dean. It hurts to be empty." Sam's hands leave sand clinging to Dean's shoulders, and he pushes Sam back down before the grains get everywhere.

"Okay, Sam, okay."

His dick throbs when he presses out the last of the lube and slicks himself. When his cock touches Sam's ass, a mad desire makes him want to surge inside, but he fights it with what little is left of his control. Sam moans quietly as he thrusts in. _Fuck, it's tight_.

There's no way Dean can remember the reasons why this was supposed to be wrong.

After what seems an eternity, Dean's in to the hilt, balls pressing against Sam's ass, and pressure building inside his nerves. Sam's breathless but Dean still hears him, "Move."

He slides out slowly and pushes back in, and Sam's back arches off the sand. Dean can see the fucked-out look in Sam's eyes, brow glistening with sweat and lips moving but unable to let out words. He grunts and grabs Sam's neglected cock; Dean fucks his brother with purpose --hand in tandem with cock-- and finally feels Sam filling even more, all want pooling in the base.

"Harder, Dean."

That's the one thing Dean can still manage. Sam's whimper-moans sound particularly delicious when Dean snaps his hips forwards, giving Sam every possible inch.

"Dean," the first one is a warning. "Dean!" the second one is a blessing.

Sam shoots thick ropes of come over Dean's fist, body tightening with the release and dragging Dean down. Dean comes deep inside Sam, his brother's ass clenching around his cock, and there just aren't words for it. For the entire thing. Wrong, right, inevitable; who he hell knows anymore?

He pulls out with a shudder, and is yanked down against Sam. Cuddling isn't his thing, but he's a boneless heap of flesh and unable to fight. Sam's heat makes him not want to fight.

Sam stirs after a while, lust vanished from his eyes, and Dean's afraid of the words that will follow. Maybe it was the spell talking, not Sam; maybe Sam never wanted this.

He can hear his heartbeat echoing in the cave. It rumbles like a thunder.

Dean watches warily, when Sam looks at their twined bodies, and he shuffles away in a rush of hot panic. "Sam, I'm sorry. This- this was never supposed to happen. You didn't want it and I- "

He tugs on his boxers in an desperate attempt to feel less naked. It fails, and Sam still watches him stoically. _How the hell is that even possible?_

"Are you sorry, Dean, really? Because I'm not."

Sam scrambles up, careful not to put too much weight on his left leg. His palms come to rest on Dean's shoulders, determination evident in the lines of his jaw. "It wasn't the bite, Dean. I wanted it now, and I want to do it again with you."

And Dean knows that Sam means it, he _knows_ , but accepting it means admitting that he has wanted it, too.

He shrugs off Sam's hands, deciding that this isn't the time to talk about it --there's never a time for _that_ \--, and clears his throat. "We need to get out of here."

Sam looks at him slowly, then obviously settles with the answer for now. They pull their clothes back on in silence, trying to dust out the offending grains of sand that have slithered everywhere.

Thinking about the ragged scratch marks on Sam's skin makes Dean cringe. "Guess we gotta go back the way we came from."

"Yeah, guess so." There's an edge in Sam's voice, but it inches more towards disappointment than anger.

Dean pulls off his shirt as an after-thought, winding it around Sam's leg despite the little actual protection it gives. He catches the annoyed little brother look Sam gives him, and realizes that nothing has really changed.

They dive in, Dean hearing Sam hiss in pain before ducking under the clear water. It doesn't take too long for them to reach the free ocean again, to swim deftly to the shore and return to the world.

The wet clothes on Dean weigh a ton, but at least there's no guilt to add to the burden.

_-end-_  



End file.
